пробудите к холодно
by Cruel EffluviumS
Summary: Ivan wakes with a start during a blizzard and finds, in the midst of it, something he never dreamed of in the way he found it. Happy alternate ending included. RussiaBelarus. R&R please


****Disclaimer: ****Alas, it is still not meant to be, myself owning Hetalia that is, so this is merely a work based in my fan mind~**  
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**Author's Note: **I'd totally forgotten about this other fanfic I'd written awhile back! I'd like to share this one with you guys too while I'm at it :3 Took me FOREVER to get this title figured out OAo but titling things is sometimes where I have the most fun OTL *is lame and enjoys these kinds of things* I'm the same way with naming a character. Takes FOREVER sometimes because I need meaning in it *shakes head* ANYWAY, translation is basically: Awaken to the Cold. It's said kind of like this: "proboodity k holodno" from what I could figure out by going over multiple Russian alphabet and pronunciation charts 8D...*dies* If it's at all wrong don't be afraid to tell me and I'll fix it ASAP~

As for this STORY it's something of a sequel/alternate ending to my girlfriend's wonderful/sad Belarus fanfic Snowstorm ;^; Moni my love, this is for you~ Hope you like it :-D *RussiafaceFTW* (link to her epic Belarus-side to this story found in my profile! Please check it out~!)

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><p><em>сердцебиение.<br>Bu-bump. Bu-bump...Bu-bump._

Ivan woke with a start. He had turned onto his side sometime during his sleep, which wasn't unusual, but what _was_ peculiar was the sense of dread filling him so profoundly that it made him tremble the moment he recognized the feeling. There was no recollection of what he'd been dreaming about, and whether it'd been a nightmare or not, so he couldn't place where this was originating from; he just knew what he felt, and that it wasn't pleasant. This forced him to sit up in bed, still wearing his dress shirt and pants that had been part of a formal dress he'd worn for a meeting with his boss the previous day.

The way such inappropriate bed clothes clung to his slightly damp skin was disconcerting, but he didn't really care too much about it when something was apparently bugging him; it was aggravating not to know _what _though. Sighing heavily and running a hand through his mussed hair, making it more ruffled than it'd been seconds before, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat there for a moment, staring at the throw rug protruding from underneath the nightstand beside him. That's when a nasty chill slithered its way disgustingly upwards from the tip of his tailbone to the crown of his head.

It was only when he could sense something terribly amiss somewhere around him that Ivan ever felt such a sensation.

_сердцебиение.  
>Bu-bump. Bu-bump.<em>

Jerking his head over his shoulder the large country placed his violet, searching gaze on the window peering out into the snowstorm afoot outside, unable to see anything but the bright white that swirled around each square pane. It was so colourless, so lifeless...to Ivan, staring into the whistling snow outside was the same as looking into the eyes of a corpse; there was no warmth to it, and if the wind wasn't around to give it motion it would simply sit still. Snow and death, it was easy for Russia to make the two go hand in hand within his mind. After all, he'd seen the colour of snow become stained red with the blood of the dead one too many times not to.

Perhaps that's what had him so perturbed? The storm outside, for some particular reason, was reminding him of terrible, gruesome times...but if that were the case then why did it feel like it was right there, right in his line of vision, that something wasn't right; whenever snow made him uncomfortable it was as if it was a blanket wrapped around him, but here it was just the window...just outside the window.

_сердцебиение.  
>Bu-bump...Bu-bump...<em>

Unable to take sitting still anymore, Ivan stood up and left his room, a sickening sensation resting thickly on his skin as the cold air from the hallway attacked his senses. Furrowing his brow, the large country made his was to the living room, seemingly alone in his very large house; it appeared everyone else was out, or maybe just curled up in a very inconspicuous corner somewhere. It wouldn't be the first time that, during a really cold day, it seemed no one lived with him when really the others were just trying to keep warm. Either way it didn't matter; the fireplace was in the living room, and that's what he wanted to be with most. But no matter how far away from it he got...the window in his bedroom weighed heavily on his mind.

It was as if something was there...something important.

_сердцебиение.  
>Bu...bump...<em>

Ivan bit his lip and tried to shake off the feeling, but it was like stepping through a spider's web; even after you managed to get it all off, there was still the ghosts of how it felt left to deal with. It could all be in his head, but it was bugging him nevertheless. "It wouldn't hurt..." Russia muttered to himself, turning his pale gaze to the door. "It's only on the side of the house, and once I get a quick look I can hurry back inside and be done with this paranoia." With that resolve, however hesitant, in mind, he grabbed his thick coat off the back of a chair nearby, slipped on his leather gloves that had been tucked away inside the pockets of his coat, and cracked open the front door.

The way the wind briskly moved made it seem as if the snow was howling, load and in anguish. With how intensely the white powder mixed with the wind made it hard to determine where much of anything was...despite all this, however, Ivan got the door open enough to leave the comfort of his house, hugging his arms close to his body as he made it, step by step, to the side of the building where his bedroom window was.

Something...It was hard to tell from the distance he was at, but Russia could see _something _outside his window. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? The storm was rabidly afoot after all, so maybe-

_сердцебиение.  
>...bump.<em>

No...Ivan had lived for a long, long time, he knew when his eyes were playing tricks on him and when they weren't; he also knew the snow well enough to recognize the difference between an illusion caused by the snow, and an actual, feasible thing in his sights. Fighting wars in such weather made one adept in such things. But this realization made him all the more alert, his right hand gently groping the area at his side where a pistol was hidden within the inside pocket of his coat.

"Кто там?" the large nation called out, flinching when the wind picked up for a moment while the unrecognizable image in his sights remained still. After five minutes of no movement from either of them, Ivan decided to approached, caution in each one of his steps...until he was only a few feet away and realized what he was looking at- realized _who _he was looking at. He may have been quite cold because of the storm before, but now it was as if his very blood had turned to ice.

Forcing his frozen legs to hurry, Ivan fell to his knees and hastily started to dig at the snow that was enveloping his precious little sister, the only one who'd never left him no matter how he behaved: Natalia. When he exposed her enough to see her face more clearly, using his body as much as he could to block the snowstorm, he was horrified by the blue colour of her skin, the severely cold feel of her body, and, more than anything, the lack of life that was within her. At this rate...he was going to lose her, if he hadn't already.

Refusing the idea that she'd die, that'd she'd leave him, Russia did the only thing he could think of and pulled the younger woman close, unbuttoning his coat so that Belarus would be making more direct contact with his body. Wasting no time he picked himself and her up, ran as fast as he could into his house, and set the woman's failing body in front of the fireplace.

Damn it. Why the hell hadn't he lit a fire before he stepped outside? If only he hadn't been so confident that there was nothing wrong- Shaking his head roughly, Russia told himself it wasn't the time to brood and harshly threw some logs into the fireplace, his eyes jetting around the room for the matches. Where the hell were the matches? A lighter- _anything _that could get Natalia warm.

There was nothing.

Ivan didn't smoke these days, neither did anyone who lived in his house, so there weren't any lighters, and the matches were probably used up yesterday since it'd been cold then too, and no one had left to go buy anymore...hopeless. This had become a miserably hopeless situation, so much so that Russia's heart felt so heavy in his chest, filled with anguish and cold, that it fell right out and onto the floor. Staring down at it, his violet eyes empty, he shifted his gaze to his little sister and walked over to her body. Getting to his knees he pressed an ear to her chest, wondering if there was pulse. Wondering if there was any hope at all...

_сердцебиение.  
>...<em>

Nothing.

Natalia...was dead. The snow that he hated, the snow that reminded him of terrible times, the snow that he associated with death...took his precious little sister. Ivan felt broken. It didn't feel worth it to put his heart back into his chest like he'd become accustomed to; he didn't want to feel the agony that was probably eating away at it and would most likely suffocate him. Leaning forward, the large man placed a soft kiss against Belarus' forehead and picked her up with both arms, holding her as one would a bride; it felt terribly ironic, or perhaps just tragic to hold her in such a way.

A little tug pulled the corners of his mouth into a small, almost innocent smile, and Ivan whispered, "I'm sorry I made you go alone...but I'll be with you soon. We'll be much warmer together soon." With that there were no more words, no more feeling for Ivan as he held Natalia and walked out the front door once more. It only took moments before he could look back and see nothing but the same white atmosphere that surrounded him from all angles.

With the wailing of the wind, and the numbing effects of the snow, Ivan merely kept walking...humming Here Comes the Bride until he could hum no more.

- конец -

**Alternate Ending**

When there was no response after Ivan called 'who's there', not even a single movement, he decided to approach whatever it was he was looking at, but did so with caution. The closer he got, the more human-shape the image took, until he knew for sure it was a human being he was staring at; what came to shock him was who the human was. Without any help from the snowstorm all the heat in Russia's body, what little of it there was, disappeared...Natalia, his little sister, was practically buried in the snow outside his bedroom window.

It was rare that the large man was clumsy, but he certainly was as he stumbled forward and got to his knees, desperately digging at the white substance trying to completely blanket Belarus. When she was uncovered enough to be better seen, Ivan's unstable heart forgot how to beat for a moment as it took in the terribly blue tint to the woman's flesh, and how lifeless she seemed even though he was right there, holding her, circumstances that would've usually made her full of life...if he didn't do something fast he was going to lose the only one who'd stayed by his side all this time.

Undoing his coat so he could wrap it around her body and lift her up, Russia held her as tightly and as closely as he could as he ran back inside his house, placing Natalia carefully in front of the fireplace. With some logs sitting readily inside the contraption already, he shot his gaze around the room and found a Zippo laying on the night stand beside a chair he recalled America using whenever he visited; the lighter was probably the blond's, a thought that almost put a smile on the Russian's face. Snatching it, he shot some accelerant to soak the wood, lit the lighter with two tries, and threw it in. The fire was ablaze in seconds.

Returning to Natalia's side Ivan situated them only inches away from the fire, his knees bent with Natalia positioned between his legs, her head against his exposed chest as he'd taken off his dress shirt so that he could better warm the woman. Hugging her close, Russia just sat there quietly and prayed, begged, even bargained with whatever forces out there could make everything okay, his head lowered. It seemed like forever, just sitting there silently, the heat gradually burning his pale skin...and then the softest of breaths grazed his chest, and filled his ears with its sound.

Jerking his gaze in the sound's direction, Ivan could've stopped breathing when he could see that colour had returned to his sister's face, and saw that her eyes were a little bit open and blinking- she was _alive_. More than anything else, he could see that she was **alive**. "N...Nata?" he hesitantly whispered, unable to fully accept that she was alive and hadn't left him until she said something.

While it took her some effort, as every part of her body felt stiff and unused for seemingly a lifetime, Belarus shifted her neck so that she could look up into her brother's face, simply admiring it for the longest time before she managed to respond hoarsely, "N-Nii...san?"

It was unreal. Ivan couldn't remember ever smiling the way he did when those words left Natalia's mouth. It was as if everything in his past didn't matter, all the bad times he'd suffered, because Belarus was alive and speaking to him at that moment. Holding the woman just a little tighter, he buried his face against the top of her head and muttered, "I'm sorry...I must be cold compared to the fire."

With no desire to move her head and look at the fire in question, rather caught up in the expression she'd just witnessed on her beloved brother's face, Belarus blushed a little and relaxed against the other country.

"You're...warmer than a-any fire, Nii-san..."


End file.
